


The Land Where Dreams Come True

by anacaoris



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dancing, Everyone is cursed to sing, F/M, Flirting, Gen, Girly Icelandic Pop Sensation BABBA (Gravity Falls), Humor, I'm Sorry, Idealized Depictions of Las Vegas From a Non-US Person, Las Vegas, Las Vegas Wedding, Mabel plays wedding planner, Major Character Undeath, Mild Language, Musical References, Musicals, Pines Family Bonding, Post-Gravity Falls, Post-Weirdmageddon, Singing, Surprise Characters - Freeform, Tags Contain Spoilers, Teenage Dipper Pines, Teenage Mabel Pines, Weirdness, not even a spoiler for this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23852497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anacaoris/pseuds/anacaoris
Summary: Stan and Ford are on their way to a brotherly bonding vacation to Las Vegas, and the twins have joined (read: sneaked) in! But under all the chips, lights, and bedazzled Elvises, something strange is lurking. What dark things have escaped the confines of Gravity Falls and taken root in Vegas — and why on Earth is everyone bursting into perfectly choreographed song-and-dance routines?
Relationships: Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is formatted to resemble a "musical episode" with links to the songs used here being placed on the beginning of each chapter, as well as linked on the text as a cue. You don't have to listen to them, but it's better if you for the sake of immersion (plus, they're good songs, karen). I tried to stay on-line with the classic GF humor, but the fic is definitely more mature in themes and language. Remember to review and kudos if you like it!
> 
> * * *

Seasoned reporter Claire Farthingale folded her hands over the papers on her desk, a practiced neutral expression on her face. She took a brief second to go back and check on her appearance; pat her blonde hair sprayed into an unnaturally buoyant cloud, check her bleached teeth on her compact mirror and nearly blind a passing intern as the lights above reflected from them; smooth down the non-existent wrinkles on her dress — starched to stiff perfection that forced her to stay upright — and the ones under her eyes — gone thanks to multiple visits to a doctor that injected her with botox — before placing them back on the slate gray desk. One had to look perfect before the cameras, after all. Behind the crew recording her, a man nodded, signalling backwards from 5 with his hand: _4, 3, 2, and_...

"Good evening, I'm Claire Farthingale. We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you breaking news of the sudden power outage in Downtown Las Vegas. Our very own Tom Tripper is on the scene. Let's go to him now, live, for more details. Tom?"

On TV screens all over Nevada, the camera split to show Claire's coworker. Tom Tripper — actually Tim Trippanoski, but he'd left that name behind once his voice deepened in high school and he'd grown his first body hair — admired his reflection in the camera. One hand lazily held a coffee cup with the name **TAM** in swirly lettering, and the microphone was tucked under his other arm. Tom checked every inch of his face with his free hand: from the overtly chiseled jawline, to his equally bleached teeth — blinding a passerby, whose scream of “ _my eyes, my eyeeees!_ ” could be heard — up to the dark pompadour that rivaled the size of his very head. Behind him, a group of showgirls ran by, followed by two tigers in green tutus and with pink, glittery claws that matched their bows.

"How's my hair? Good? Anything on my nose or teeth? Ah who am I kidding, I'm _gorgeous_. But y'know, gotta look perfect for the ladies in the audience, they tune in daily for this chiseled face. None of those boring news that ol' _Fart-ington_ wants to give." Tom made a mocking gesture with his free hand, moving his hand as if it were a puppet and making high whining sounds. The camera shook and a snicker was heard, clearly whoever was holding it was amused, though not at the mockery itself. "Oh don't give me that look, and stop moving. I swear if I find out there's something in my teeth or so much as a hair is our of place in my head, I'll fucking murder you with your own camera. _Interns_."

Back in the studio, Claire turned as red as the CGI background. " _A-hem!_ Well… uh. Our apologies to the viewers, it seems Tom is having some," Claire glared at the camera, crumpling the papers she had artfully placed on the desk, " _technical difficulties_ with his microphone. Do we have him now? Tom, can you hear me?"

"Hi, Claire!" Tom smiled as if nothing had happened.

"Tom, finally. So what can you tell us?"

"Good evening viewers, Tom Tripper, your favorite reporter here, coming to you live from the scene." Tom threw the coffee to the side, hitting a screaming tourist on the face and knocking her down, and popped the lapels of his jacket. "As you can see, all of Downtown Las Vegas, and neighboring cities, are completely covered in darkness, a power outage like we've never seen before."

The camera took a moment to show the large, dark expanse behind Tom Tripper. Hundreds of buildings were completely dark; the scaled down replicas of world monuments, the casinos and hotels with glittering doors and glass walls. Through the darkness, it was clear a few of them had suffered some serious damage: shattered glass was everywhere and plumes of smoke rose up from several buildings. People ran left and right, clearly disoriented, barely avoiding large cracks on the streets. The only light visible was from the glow of phone screens, the odd flashlights and cop cars around.

"The event followed an explosion that authorities say shattered the windows of several casinos, stores and hotels." As he talked, more people walked behind Tom, clearly part of the many shows. There were showgirls in outrageously colorful costumes, exotic animals pimped out to degrees that would make any animal rights activist perish on the spot; a few clowns jumped as stage magicians popped up in clouds of smoke and disappeared the same way. Even a gaggle of Elvis Presleys of every kind showed up: regular Elvis, Elvis with dwarfism, female Elvis, vampire Elvis, alien Elvis, fox fursona Elvis. "Right now there are no reported casualties, and police have the situation under control —"

Out of nowhere, a man crashed into Tom, pushing him to the ground. He seemed terrified of something, his eyes wildly darting around until they landed on the microphone in Tom's hands. The man reached for it, beginning a tug-of-war that pulled Tom Tripper, now looking a mess and with his hair suspiciously leaning at a right angle, back to his feet.

"I saw it, oh my God I saw it!" The man pulled the microphone close to his mouth and screamed so loud that back on the set, Claire winced. "They have it there, right under us, and they're trying to keep everyone quiet! But I saw it, I swear I did!"

"Hey!" Tom braced his heel on the ground and tried to yank the microphone back. "Give that back! Don't you know who I am? I'm Tom Tripper, of Red Letter News!"

But the man didn't care, he pushed Tom down and Tom, who hadn't really been one for gym class despite his seemingly fit physique — really a product of surgeries and a lot of supplements — fell down. His hair slipped down over his like a cap. A colorful macaw suddenly swooped by, took it in its beak and flew after its owner, leaving Tom Tripper to be seen in all his bald glory.

"No, my hair! My wonderfully coiffed haaaaaair!"

"Under the hotel, they have it hidden there." The man pointed the camera at himself, ignoring Tom's breakdown at his shameful secret. "It was horrible… the throne, the singing, I heard it all. I saw it! Whatever the cops say isn't the truth. The explosion and the power wasn't an accident, or someone tampering around. At least not with anything normal." The man closed his eyes and released a shaky gasp, his grip on the microphone tightening. "Whatever you do, don't come to Vegas. Stay in your house, lock your doors, and pray no one finds you. Because under the hotel, under all of these hotels and the shiny lights and colorful billboards, there is —"

"And it seems we are out of time." Claire Farthingale cleared her throat, hiding her smile as the split screen went from the still raving man — _the end is nigh, save yourselves!_ — to her coworker sobbing on the floor and covering his bald head. The macaw from before came back to peck at him. "Up next, we discuss Sev'ral Timez newest album **We're Definitely Not Clones** , and the pressing question that has been on everyone's minds recently: can pigs really eat bacon, and if so, does that make them evil, heartless beings engaging in cannibalism? Stay tuned."


	2. Opening Number

* * *

[Gravity Falls Unused Theme Song](https://youtu.be/TpYBdOMh4GM) [Neil Cicierega](https://youtu.be/R16DygJ2P1g) 0:42

* * *

Ford grunted as his brother took a sharp turn, making him knock his head on against the window. The metal plate in his head made a hollow _thwump_ as it connected. In the backseat their suitcases rattled, hitting the doors, and the car's wheels screeched in protest of Stan's reckless driving. At this rate Ford feared he would end up with a bruised face when they got to their hotel.

"Maybe I should drive, Stanley," he offered. Anything to get his twin to stop with his senseless driving. Decades traversing the multiverse and yet nothing compared to Stan Pines and his disregard for human safety and traffic laws — or most laws, in fact.

"Calm down Sixer, we're nearly there. Besides, no way am I letting you drive after last time. Thought you could stay awake that long and nearly crashed us against a mountain."

"At least I don't try and _eat my shirt_ when I'm sleep deprived."

On cue, Stan quickly glanced down and spit out the collar of his shirt which he had, indeed, been chewing on for a few minutes now. Maybe he wasn't as alert as he'd liked to be, but he was better than Ford, who was running on stale coffee and some abysmal looking snacks they'd bought from a gas station: pink marshmallow abominations, overly sugary and covered in edible rainbow glitter shaped like kitten heads that tasted like cardboard. The type of thing Mabel would love to buy for herself and her little girl posse, taste aside — or maybe not — if she were around.

Except she wasn't around. She and Dipper wouldn't be around for another week, in fact. Which gave the elder Pines twins plenty of time to enjoy their getaway, provided no one got arrested. Stan had planned it for some time now, and with Soos having ownership of the Shack in all but name, it was easy for them to pack their bags and hit the road. Ford had many places on land he'd wanted to see after coming back from his time in other dimensions, but there was one that Stan was most excited for in particular, and which they'd been driving south for.

"You'll love it, Ford. Las Vegas, Nevada. All the casinos and shows, it's like the Mystery Shack, except shinier, and with no humidity, and people are lining up to empty their pockets for the fun of it. They'll sit for hours in front of slot machines and waste money without complaint. It's amazing."

"I'm surprised you're able to travel there with me. I'd thought your criminal history extended to every state."

Stan made a dismissive gesture. "I'll have you know I'm only banned in 27 states and 30 cities, not including incorporated territories, as well as the countries of Georgia and Colombia. And besides I'm a reformed man now, no need to worry about me getting into some harebrained scheme that'll get us sent to jail in less than a week of getting there."

Ford affectionately rolled his eyes and leaned back on the seat. At least Stan was driving slower now, having seemingly taken pity on him. According to the GPS (a gift from Dipper, his first solo invention back in Piedmont, which also doubled as a massive glitter bomb thanks to Mabel's touch) they were just twenty minutes away from arriving at their destination. Deep down, Ford had to admit he felt excited at the prospect of seeing Vegas for the first time. When he'd been a child, it was on his list of places to visit with his brother. And after a year of exploring the seas, and another of relative tranquility and peace in Gravity Falls — as peaceful as their supernatural enclave could be — the idea of a normal vacation without any weirdness or the threat of storms and drowning sounded amazing.

"Stanley, do we still have those little snacks?"

"The pink gross gooey ones that look like a unicorn's glittery vomit? Yeah I stuffed them inside the ridiculously large suitcase in the backseat we brought. By the way I think a possum or something got in there by the way, because I heard it grunt when it threw it in yesterday."

"I _hope_ it isn't another possum," Ford said as he unbuckled his seat belt and reached into the back, unzipping the suitcase that true to its name was incredibly large, maybe even to fit two average sized children, "last time I dealt with one was last July, remember the one possessed by the spirit of the lady that haunted the Gravity Falls library? And let me tell you, did that spirit have the chutzpah to — what on Earth!"

Stan slammed the brakes at his brother's scream, just narrowly avoiding crashing into another car. The driver honked and leaned out the window to flip their middle finger at him.

"Yeah yeah, fuck you too buddy! Jeez, you nearly got us killed. What happened back there?"

Ford and Stan watched as the half-open suitcase jumped and jiggled around. Horrible sounds came from inside of it, strange grunts and squeals like a wounded animal. The two reached for their weapons — gun and brass knuckles respectively — waiting for whatever horrific creature had snuck in to jump out.

The adorably pink head of a pig popped out instead.

Stan blinked. "What?"

The zipper opened more, allowing the pig to get free and scramble into Stan's arms and making him smile. "Oh ho, hey there fella. How'd you get in there? You look just like Mabel's pig."

"Stan, I think that is Mabel's pig."

On cue, a head of brown hair, crowned with an eden-green band and with candy stuck on the long locks, came out from the sea of clothes. Like a strange monster being born, arms clad in the sleeves of a similarly colored sweater pulled her out. The mouth filled with braces gasped for air as the body flopped the car floor, rolling upside down and smacking its feet on the window, before breaking into a brilliant smile directed at the still gaping men.

"Hey Grunkles!" Mabel paused and coughed out a plaid sock before spreading her arms widely and throwing glitter around. "Surpriseeeee!"

"What? But, how," Stan screamed.

Before she could answer, a muffled whine came from inside the case. "Ugh, can someone please help me? I can't feel my legs." Mabel reached into the suitcase and pulled Dipper out. He looked a little worse for wear, pale and queasy, likely from motion sickness and being in such a small place for what had been nearly 10 hours. His new cap, which matched his sister's hairband, was askew on his head. "I never want to see another button-up shirt again. Jeez, why does all your clothing smell like cologne, saltwater taffy and… what is that, gnome sweat? Forget it. I don't wanna know."

The elder Pines watched as the younger twins sat down comfortably, buckled up — including Waddles — and patiently waited for their Grunkles to drive, seemingly ignoring the fact that they weren't even supposed to be there in the first place.

"Why're you two staring at us." Mabel pulled one of the sticky treats from her hair and plopped it in her mouth. "Let's get going, you guys," she said between bites.

"I'm sorry, how did you too get here," Ford asked, eyebrows raised high.

"That's easy! We wanted to surprise you, so we told Mom and Dad to take us a little earlier and they said yes. Then Soos and Melody told us you guys were going to on a trip, and Dipper and I thought —"

"I am a victim in all this. I was dragged here."

"Anyways, Dipper and I thought, "hey, why not surprise our Stan and Ford and get inside their luggage bag and go on a Pines vacay with them?" Some nice family bonding. So we hid our bags with the rest and jumped in here. I might have eaten the rest of your snacks a while ago by the way, they were really good. And the marshmallow kitten heads on the were a nice touch."

Stan pointed at Waddles. "And what about the pig?"

"Gasp! I wasn't going to leave Waddles behind, Grunkle Stan."

Mabel began to nuzzle her pet pig, kissing his belly and blowing raspberries. For his part, Dipper looked less sick now that he'd settled down, but still somewhat guilty, which at least seemed to prove he hadn't been on board with the plan.

"Look guys, we're sorry. We really did want to surprise you, but Mabel got really excited and when we heard you guys were leaving well… you know how she gets." Dipper tugged the brim of his cap, this one navy and matching his new sneakers.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't turn this car around and dump you with Soos," Stan threatened. "Your parents will have our heads if they find out we took you out of Gravity Falls without their permission. And Shermy will never let us hear the end of this.

Mabel pouted and gave him the most innocent look she could muster. "Aw, come on Grunkle Stan. Dipper and me'll be on our best behavior. Right Dips?" She lifted her pig up to her face. "And Waddles too! _Oink oink_."

"Still not convinced."

"Look, you guys won't even realize we're there. You can have your vacation, and Mabel and I will just stay in the pool all day, or something." Now Dipper was giving the wide-eyed look at Ford, pouting and trying his best to look as sweet and convincing as possible, in hopes that between him and his sister, they'd get through their Grunkles. "Or like Mabel said, we could take the time to have a nice, regular summer without any monsters, or weird stuff. Come on, you're not really going to turn back, right? Please Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford?"

Ford and Stan exchanged looks. It was hard to resist the kids when they were giving them the puppy-eye treatment. Despite being almost fifteen, the two still looked as wide-eyed and idealistic as they had when their parents had first sent them to the Mystery Shack. Even Waddles had joined in — although, the pig was adorable by default, so it wasn't that hard. Ford winced, his will crumbling under the combined cuteness breaking his defenses and making him feel guilty.

"You're just saying this so you'll get to rest in a bed after spending 10 hours inside that suitcase, aren't you?" Ford pocketed his gun and sat back, throwing the kids a smile from the rearview mirror. It was clear he'd been won over.

"Eh, maybe a bit."

"We're in major need of a bathroom and a shower, stat."

"Well Stanley, you heard the kids."

Stan sighed, realizing he was outnumbered. "Oh alright, alright. But you guys better keep up your promise of behaving, or so help me I _will_ drive you all the way back to California."

" _Yeah!_ "

"By the way Stan, did you curse back there when we came out? Like, legitimately curse?"

Stan hit the gas and the car went flying down the road once more, Ford, Mabel and Dipper just managing to stay in their place thanks to their seat belts, ducking to avoid being hit by the content jumping from the open suitcase. Dipper's face got the same green tinge from before with every pothole they hit and every time Stan took a turn, and he scrambled to lower the window.

"Stan, please slow — oh no. _**HURK!**_ "

"Woo-hoo!" Mabel pumped her fists in her air, oblivious to Dipper retching over the side of the car. "The Pines are hitting the road, on their way to… say, where are we going?"

Ford reached back and pulled another of the snacks from Mabel's hair, taking out the strand that still stuck to it before giving it a bite. "You didn't hear us say the name about ten times just half an hour ago? We even played a song about it. A few of them in fact."

"We were too busy being drowned by your old man clothing to really listen to what you guys were saying."

"Well don't worry kids, because we're finally here," Stan said, putting on his salesman flair as he swept his arm over the view at his side. "Feast your eyes."

Mabel gasped in wonder and pressed her nose against the glass. Even Dipper, who had finally managed to calm his stomach and was gargling the taste away with a can of soda, couldn't help himself but watch in amazement, and Ford followed suit.

There it was, the horizon crowned by tall, vividly colored buildings that glimmered under the unforgiving summer sun, the palm trees that seemed to reach for the sky, and the sign in bright bold tones welcoming them.

"Welcome to fabulous Las Vegas!"

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr](https://anacaoris.tumblr.com)!


End file.
